Wednesday, June 10, 2009

Summer Days

I love summer and I love having a pool.

After the disheartening subject of my last post, I decided it was time to recount the good aspects of summer that I've been enjoying for the last month. Has it really been a month already since school let out? Goodness it flies.

Last week, my mother went to the gym with Italian-American Woman, and I watched Pie and Italian-American Woman's son, Italian-American Boy.

Pie and her friend hopped into the cold water and managed to fenagle Thomas and me into going with them. Several minutes after plunging into the 76-degree pool, the four of us retreated shivering to my deck, where we lay on our backs and basked in the heat trapped by the house's siding.

Pie was sprawled out on her stomach, and I told her to turn around. When she did, the two of us stared into the sky.

Without a single cloud, there was nothing to distract us from the immensity of the blue.

"Where's Heaven?" she asked me.

"I'm not sure," I said.

"Can you see it?"

"Not from here, sweetie."

My mother and Italian-American Woman returned from their workout shortly thereafter and took a moment by the pool to breathe.

The next day, with my parents safely at work, I invited Peruvian Girl and Hispanic Guy to come over and partake in a swim. My mother generally dislikes when we have friends visit for this purpose, and she'd have a fit to learn one of us had had people in the hot tub, but what are these facilities for if not for enjoyment? Does she think the people I hang out with would be dirty?

Seeing Hispanic Guy was a special treat, because he lives in the Goldlands, the same region where Major University is located, and had never before made the long trek to our out-of-the-way town. This community is so isolated that many people in the neighboring municipality, about thirty minutes away, aren't aware we're here.

For Hispanic Guy, leaving the urbane sophistication of the Goldlands for our mountain hamlet was an unusual experience, but as Peruvian Girl and I both told him, there are advantages to Mountain Town. Things are quieter here, slower, and nature surrounds us. In many ways, it is freer. Our homes are surrounded by trees and fields, into which anyone can wander at whim.

After we'd gotten into the pool and hot tub, I was famished and asked Peruvian Girl, "Do you want to go to Mario's?"

"Yeah," she said. "We could get subs."

"Oh, I've never had their subs before," I said. "Do you want to go, Hispanic Guy?"

"Sure," he answered.

"The weather is so nice," I noted, looking out at a green yard bathed in 85-degree heat. "Do you want to just walk?"

"Okay," Peruvian Girl said.

We changed back into our clothes (managing to get into and out of both the pool and the hot tub before my mother arrived home) and then took a road onto a dirt trail that would lead us into town. It was a simple act that wouldn't have been the same in the Goldlands.

We were undisturbed as we passed beneath a beautiful canopy of trees, walking alongside the field where in the winter of 2006 our group of friends had made two fire-pits and held regular get-togethers.

Mountain Town is beautiful in many ways. As we approached Main Street we clowned around on the wall of a bank parking lot, snapping pictures that they believed were destined for nowhere but a non-existent "Faceless Photos" group on Flickr, since I officially don't have a blog anymore.

Then it was off to Mario's, where I had what I can truly say was one of the most delicious subs I've ever enjoyed. I've long been a fan of this restaurant's authentic Italian pizza (revered here in Mountain Town), but I had no idea that their other fare would be even more scrumptious.

I ordered a twelve-inch bacon, steak, and cheese and ate the entire thing, along with a healthy portion of spicy fries that the three of us collectively dominated.

There are many things I could say about the pleasure of spending unplanned time with good friends, but the one word that encapsulates it best is "loveliness." It is just a lovely way to live, a lovely thing to experience, and I am so tremendously fortunate that I've had countless other days like it this summer.

Earlier this week Sacagawea and I went out to buy ice-cream from the grocery store at ten o'clock p.m. and then enjoyed the rest of the night until one-thirty eating it as we watched Disney movies and made fun of The 700 Club.

When the host announced that a viewer from Florida had been miraculously cured of her incontinence after seeing the program, Sacagawea and I burst into laughter and I began a reenactment of what I imagined to be the woman's prayer.

"Lord," I said in the best Southern accent I could manage. "Please let me stop shittin' myself in public."

My one gripe is that I do very little in the way of being productive, i.e., working on the novel that I'm allegedly writing. That will be my resolution for tomorrow.